Gemotions

The crayon slipped from Amelia's fingers, scattering across the polished wood of the kitchen table. She stared at the drawing, her breath hitching in her chest. A lanky figure with mismatched socks and a perpetual grin, exactly as she'd remembered him. The same one that had occupied her youthful imagination, the one she’d christened "Wiggles." Her niece, Lily, at five years old, had produced a drawing of Wiggles. He had been gone for decades. Amelia felt a coldness spread from her core, a chill that seemed to seep into her very bones.

"Lily, sweetie, who is this?" Amelia asked, her voice barely a whisper. She couldn't look Lily in the eye.

Lily beamed, pointing to the artwork. "That's Giggle-Wiggles! He plays with me in the garden." Amelia’s hands trembled as she picked up the drawing, a sudden vertigo making her head spin. The scent of fresh-baked cookies, usually comforting, now felt cloying and unreal. She needed to sit down.